


The Fall of Chance's Night

by LongLivetheTribbles



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Gen, Hearing Voices, Kidnapping, Murder, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LongLivetheTribbles/pseuds/LongLivetheTribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even for those shadowy assassins of the Dark Brotherhood, Lucas Delanuit's story is unique.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Blood

When Lucas Delanuit was young, he discovered a dark secret lurking within his family tree. A secret that jarred him to his very core. A secret he never expected to unearth, or to even exist within the recesses of the long line of upstanding, even heroic characters from which he came. A person who embodied the very things he condemned. Exactly the sort of person he swore never to become like. 

 

Finding out your relative killed some folks was one thing. 

 

Finding out your relative was not only a  _famous_ _assassin_ , but was in fact the legendary  _Lucien Lachance_ , was another thing entirely. 

 

It was no wonder, he decided, that his family changed their name long ago.

 

Lucas swallowed hard and looked down at the floor, where the corpse of a woman who had stood and spoken not ten seconds ago now lay in a growing pool of blood, which stained the wooden floor and seeped into the crevices. 

 

Much to his horror, he had just committed his first murder. 

 

The mixed reactions surrounding Lucas were enough to snap him out of his almost trance-like state. There were the younger children, who laughed and shouted in delight, ecstatic that Grelod the Kind was now dead. There were the horrified screams of Constance Michel, who frantically ran about the small building, begging Lucas to leave. 

 

There were the volatile emotions welling up within Lucas himself. 

 

When he had entered Windhelm some days ago, he was of course intrigued by the rumors that surrounded Aventus Aretino. Upon entering his home (an act he was not at all proud of, seeing as he had to pick the lock), he was appalled to see that this child had indeed performed that profane and blasphemous ritual- the Black Sacrament. 

 

 Despite his better judgment, Lucas decided to hear Aventus out, reasoning that one would have to be truly desperate to call upon such a malevolent force as the Dark Brotherhood. Aventus, obviously exhausted from performing the Sacrament for so long, recounted the tale of his mother's death, which resulted in his being sent to Honorhall Orphanage. He described how Grelod the Kind mistreated he and all of the other children, and how he had run away, returning home. 

 

Although Lucas knew no good could come of taking the role of Dark Brotherhood assassin (though, in fairness, he never explicitly claimed to be one), he decided to make the journey to Riften anyway,just to scout out the orphanage and maybe even talk to Grelod. He knew Riften had a well-earned reputation for housing ruffians and thieves, lowlives and cutthroats alike. Lucas also had faith that if Grelod lived up to her name (he figured that, surely, nobody with "the Kind" in their name could be  _that_ bad), he could surely get things straightened out, without violence. 

 

It became abundantly clear, upon entering Honorhall, that Grelod the Kind was anything but. 

 

Before Lucas caught sight of Grelod, he heard her voice; a cold, cruel voice. "Those who shirk their duties will receive an extra beating!"

 

 _Extra beatings?!_ Lucas thought. It was obvious that Aventus wasn't exaggerating at all. A new thought forced its way into his mind, so quickly and powerfully that he wasn't sure it was even his own. 

 

 _Talking_ was worthless. All he could do now was  _act._  

 

Lucas felt a wave of passionate rage wash over him, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Despite having very little combat experience beyond basic training with his father, he drew his dagger and lunged towards Grelod, feet flying over the floor. 

 

As Lucas neared Grelod, a most peculiar thing happened. It was as if time slowed almost to a crawl, and he heard a voice, distinctly in his mind. It was a voice deep, raspy, and otherworldly. 

 

 _Yes, dear Lucas..._ the voice started.  _Give in to your anger. Kill Grelod the Kind... Your destiny awaits you..._

 

As soon as the voice quieted, time seemed to resume as normal. Less than a second later, Lucas' dagger found Grelod's heart almost effortlessly. She loosed a pained cry before her lifeless body collapsed to the floor. 

 

As quickly as the rage set in, it faded and was replaced by shock and fear. Mara preserve him, surely he didn't just murder an old woman in cold blood. There was no possible way. He didn't mean to, he didn't want to. 

 

At least, he didn't think so. 

 

Unable to deal with what had just transpired, Lucas sheathed his dagger and fled the orphanage. Tears fell freely as he ran through Riften, sprinting as quickly as his feet would carry him. Passersby watched and stared, but he didn't care. A guard even began to approach and ask what the matter was, but he bolted by much too quickly. 

 

The only time he paused, even for a second, was when he stopped to fling open the gates of Riften. Once he was outside the city, he approached the carriage driver. Lucas couldn't bear to look him-or anyone- in the eyes, and so he kept his head low as he spoke in an unsteady voice. 

 

"I need to get out of here... Take me to Windhelm. By the Nine, anywhere but here..."

 

The carriage driver was taken aback and alarmed, but decided not to pry. "I understand," he said quickly. "Hop in the back and I'll have you to Windhelm in no time."

 

Lucas did as he was told, and they set off. 

 

He didn't stop praying for a moment of the entire trip. 

 

 

 

 


	2. Simple Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most simple messages are the most powerful.

It was quite a while later that the carriage transporting Lucas arrived at the stables of Windhelm. He hadn't immediately realized that the ride was over, and indeed had no idea until the driver turned around and tapped him on the shoulder. Lucas flinched at the contact and came to his senses, and got out his coinpurse to pay for the trip. 

Though his voice was marginally more steady than before, he still sounded haunted, as though he still weren't quite in the present. "Thank you for bringing me here... How much do I owe you?"

The driver held up a hand and gave Lucas a concerned look. "This one's on me, friend. In fact...," he handed a small pouch of coins to Lucas, "I don't know what happened, but you look like you could use a drink. Allow me." 

For the first time since he killed Grelod the Kind, Lucas made eye contact.  He was shocked that this man was willing to grant him such charity. 

 _Surely,_ he thought,  _If he knew what happened, he wouldn't do this..._

Lucas gingerly took the pouch. He tried to sound calm, but his voice betrayed his awe. "Such generosity is... astonishing. I don't know what to say... thank you." 

The carriage driver smiled. "Feel better, friend."

Lucas got off of the carriage and stepped carefully onto the ice-and-snow-covered ground. The shock of the murder was beginning to lessen, ever-so-slightly. He took a moment, as he traversed the long stone path to the gates of Windhelm, to observe his surroundings.

To his surprise, it was not snowing, which was rare in this region of Skyrim. The sky was a bright blue and the clouds were sparse, allowing the strong sunlight to make the snow and ice glisten and shine, which was easy to appreciate even in a state of shock. The waterway also sparkled in the sunlight, adding to the beautiful scene. 

All in all, it was a lovely day. He only wished his visit was under more cheerful circumstances. 

Lucas reached the towering gates of the city. He couldn't help but marvel at them; they were incredibly tall, thick, and strong, but also very ornate. Somehow, it was still not overly troublesome for a commoner to open and close them singlehandedly. 

Once Lucas entered the city proper, he scanned the area he was able to observe. To his left was a marketplace, filled with the hustle and bustle of of citizens buying and trading. Directly ahead was Candlehearth Hall, and farther in the same direction was the grand Palace of the Kings. On his right was a more residential area, including the infamous Gray Quarter. 

He took a deep breath and began to walk towards the residential area, where Aventus Aretino's home was. As much as he'd have liked never to see that house again, it seemed only right to let him know that the dark task of killing Grelod was done. 

Lucas walked with measured steps, forcing himself not to keep scanning the people he passed, as if he was afraid someone here in Windhelm had witnessed his crime in Riften. He tried to give off an air of casualness, as though he was just another traveler passing through. Ash he neared the Aretino residence, he quickened his pace somewhat, and upon finding that the door was unlocked, quickly slipped inside. 

Releasing a breath he hadn't been quite aware he was holding, Lucas closed the door behind him and headed up the stairs, where he noticed Aventus eagerly awaiting his return. 

Aventus stepped forward almost timidly, and sounded so childlike that it was unsettling; not like someone who had called on the Dark Brotherhood. "You're back! So that means... Grelod the Kind..."

Lucas didn't make him finish that sentence. "She's dead... yes." 

Aventus' face lit up. "I knew you would do it, I just knew it!" He scrambled around for a moment, before holding up an ornate plate. "This is to pay you. It's an old heirloom, and pretty valuable!"

Lucas took the plate somewhat awkwardly, and couldn't help but wonder if the Dark Brotherhood were the sort who would accept a plate as payment, no matter how old or fancy.

The sheer gratitude in Aventus' voice made Lucas almost sick. "Thank you... thank you _so much_!"

Unable to muster more than a weak smile and a nod, Lucas turned and left the Aretino house. Holding the plate in one arm and taking out the small pouch of coins he'd been given with his other hand, he thought now would be a good time to go get himself a drink.

Possibly several. 

The sun was starting to set, so Lucas walked quickly to Candlehearth Hall, slowing a bit to cautiously navigate icy stairs. He'd heard rumors of a killer on the loose in Windhelm, who targeted young women. Despite not being a woman, he figured being quick would lessen his risk of being involved in violence. 

 _Not that I don't deserve it..._ he thought guiltily. 

Simply walking into Candlehearth hall raised Lucas' spirits considerably. It was quite a bit warmer than it was outside, there was a bard playing music, and the patrons were enjoying cold mead, good food, and fellowship. 

Despite being an Imperial, Lucas was amazed at how Nord taverns just felt like home.

Pondering that, he stepped up to the counter and sat on a stool. He was greeted warmly by the inn's proprietor, Elda Early-Dawn, who smiled kindly at him. 

"Glad you came to Candlehearth Hall," she began. "I've got some fresh brew, and some of the best food Windhelm has to offer. Just let me know if you need anything." 

Lucas withdrew a few septims from the small pouch he'd been given, and slid them across the counter to her. He met her gaze, and sounded rather meek when he spoke. "I could use a drink. It's been a... rough... few days."

Elda nodded understandingly and picked up a stone mug. "I can tell just looking at you, sweetheart," she said as she poured a generous helping of mead in the mug. 

She placed the mug down gently in front of Lucas. "There you go, friend." She took the coins, and paused before asking, "Anything you wanna discuss?"

Lucas was surprised by the question, and took a big swig to avoid answering, at least for a moment. 

_There's no doubt she'd react badly if she knew the full truth... he thought._

Lucas swallowed and wiped his mouth before setting the mug back down. "There was, well... there was an accident."

Well, it wasn't a  _complete_ lie. 

The look Elda gave him was one of sympathy. "Sorry to hear that. You don't have to keep going if you don't want to," she said as she began to wipe down the counter with a rag. 

Lucas simply nodded in her general direction and took another swig of mead. Though some thought Imperials to be lightweight dandies who couldn't hold their liquor, it very much didn't apply to Lucas. He rather enjoyed indulging in various types of drinks, and could hold them fairly well too. In an effort to take his mind off recent events, he thought about all the different taverns in Skyrim, and all the local brews he hadn't gotten to try yet. 

 _Here I am..._ he amusedly thought.  _An Imperial, in Skyrim, thinking about all manner of alcohol. That ought to win over the native Nords..._

Lucas recalled the first time he had ever been to Riften. Between the chase he had witnessed involving some guards and a lone thief, the man with long red hair scamming folks at the market, and nearly having his pocket picked, all within the first ten minutes of his arrival, it had been quite the adventure. He remembered feeling rather prideful that he'd reached Riften's inn, the Bee and Barb, without being successfully robbed. 

The atmosphere in the Bee and Barb was different from that of Candlehearth Hall, but Lucas remembered feeling welcome, nonetheless. He had been surprised to learn that Keerava and Talen-Jei, two Argonians, were the inn's proprietors, but found this bit of diversity to be a refreshing change of pace. 

He also recalled that he and Talen-Jei actually hit it off quite well. They chatted for a good while about a variety of topics, including general politics, how he had met Keerava, and Talen's selection of special drinks. He had three different ones to offer, with quite creative names; "The Cliff Racer", "The White Gold Tower", and the one that really got Lucas' attention: "The Velvet LeChance". Lucas couldn't decide if it showed admiration for the infamous legend of old, or maybe just a sick sense of humor. 

Either way, he kept that familial relation to himself. 

Elda's voice cut through his memory like a knife and brought him back to the present. "You alright, friend?"

Lucas blinked. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Would you happen to have a room I could rent?"

Elda resumed wiping down the counter, pausing to acknowledge a man a little ways away who signaled that he was ready for more. She called to him, "I'll be there in a moment," then turned back to Lucas. 

"I've got a room here on the ground floor. Ten gold rents it for a day, but for you, I'm willing to take five."

Lucas smiled faintly. "I'll take it. And... I won't forget your kindness."

Elda nodded. "Not a problem. Follow me, I'll show you to your room."

Lucas counted out five septims and handed them to her before getting up to follow her. 

The room was very close by; they only had to walk a handful of paces over from the bar area. As Lucas glanced around the small room, she again asked him to let her know if he needed anything, then close the door on her way out. 

Lucas sat on a nearby chair, placing the plate Aventus had given him on the table. He was lost in thought, considering what to do next.

As it turns out, having a murder on one's hands tends to complicate things. 

After a few minutes had passed, Lucas decided that he was too exhausted to give the matter any serious thought that night, and that he ought to at least  _try_ and get some sleep. 

He doubted, though, that this endeavor would be successful. 

With that in mind, Lucas stood up from the chair, walked over to the simple bed, and laid down.

Falling asleep was not a simple task. It took several tries, thanks to a racing mind and guilty conscience, and he was not sure how long it took  before his mind finally slipped into darkness. Even so, his slumber was not particularly restful. 

He had one particularly vivid nightmare.

Lucas was standing in Honorhall Orphanage, where he heard Grelod the Kind berating the children in her "care". Just then, it seemed as if he stepped out of himself; another Lucas Delanuit stepped in front of him, while he stood back. 

"Those who shirk their duties will receive an extra beating!" Grelod's dream-self said coldly.

Lucas knew what was going to happen.

With renewed horror, he watched the other version of himself draw a dagger, then lunge. He also ran forward, and reached out to grab the wrist of the hand that held the dagger.

The hand with which he so desperately reached out phased right through the other, having no effect whatsoever.

From that moment, Lucas could not move, only watch helplessly as the other him brutally grabbed Grelod's thin shoulder with one hand and stabbed her. 

And he looked far too comfortable-too practiced-doing it.  

As she did in the real world, Grelod cried out and fell to the floor.

Lucas sat bolt upright, waking from his nightmare in a cold sweat. He had predicted that he might have dreams about the murder, but watching himself do it, and having no influence to stop it, was more than he bargained for.

He just looked so  _casual._

Was that how he appeared to the children? To Constance Michel?

Lucas rubbed his eyes wearily and blinked a few times, trying to get oriented with his surroundings once more. As he looked around the room again, he started to remember where he was and how he'd gotten there. It seemed useless to go back to sleep, and he had no way of knowing what time it was anyway, so he slowly got up and grabbed a book off the bookshelf. 

He sat down at the desk and placed the book down next to the plate, then glanced down as he opened the cover and read the title.

A Kiss, Sweet Mother.

Just his luck.

As much as he was tempted to close the book then forcefully place it back on the bookshelf, he had to admit he was curious about the specifics of the Black Sacrament. 

It was a gruesome but fascinating read. He didn't even hear Elda come into the room until she spoke, which made him recoil in surprise and hastily close the book, as though it were some incriminating conspiracy. 

Elda looked puzzled, but decided to ignore his reactions.

"There's a courier here," she began. "He's got a note for you. I said I'd let you know."

It was Lucas' turn to look confused. He hadn't been expecting any messages from anyone. 

He stood up and followed Elda out of the room. Just as she had said, there was a courier standing by the counter, who approached upon catching sight of Lucas. 

"Ah, you must be Lucas. Got this note for you," he said as he handed Lucas a folded piece of parchment. 

The consternation in Lucas' tone was apparent. "Who sent this?"

The courier shrugged. "No idea... Sinister-looking, didn't give me a name, black robes and all. At any rate, I should go. Lots of deliveries to make."

With that, the courier turned and left. Lucas went back to his room, note in hand. 

As soon as he closed the door behind himself, Lucas unfolded the note.

And promptly froze.

On the parchment was a large black handprint with a simple but powerful message below, almost a warning, it seemed.

"We know."

 

 

 

 


	3. Spirited Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving Windhelm was his only mistake.

In an instant, Lucas knew exactly what this note was about, and he knew exactly who sent it.It could only be from the Dark Brotherhood itself. They had surely found out that he had taken Aventus Aretino's contract in their stead, and they were coming for him next.

 

Lucas panicked. There was no time to lose. He needed to get put of  _here_ , out of Windhelm. Without missing a step, Lucas quickly gathered his belongings; the plate given to him by Aventus, his remaining gold, and the copy of A Kiss, Sweet Mother that had come from the inn's bookshelf. 

 

After all, what was a little petty thievery compared to murder?

 

Once he grabbed his things, he hastily walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, being careful not to slam it. He stopped only briefly, to speak to Elda one last time. 

 

He attempted to sound casual, but it was far easier said than done. "Thank you very much for all you've done for me," he began, " but it's time for me to move on."

 

It wasn't the best attempt, but considering he was under the impression that an organization of bloodthirsty killers was after him, it wasn't terrible either.

 

Elda looked at Lucas with a peculiar mix of concern and suspicion on her face. "Are you in some kind of trouble, friend?"

 

_You have no idea..._

 

"None that I'm aware of," he lied. 

 

That seemed good enough for Elda. "Where were you thinking of heading?"

 

Lucas wasn't sure he should tell her, but decided to take a chance and trust her. "I was thinking I might head to Solitude next."

 

Elda smiled. "Lovely old city. I think you'll like it. Travel safe."

 

Lucas nodded and walked out into the cold. 

 

Not too far away from where Elda and Lucas had their conversation, a blonde woman raised an eyebrow and smirked to herself before taking another sip of her mead. 

 

 _Target acquired..._ she thought amusedly.

 

The pleasantness of the day before was gone. Between the overcast skies, falling snow, and general bleakness that usually permeated Windhelm's atmosphere, there was no remaining trace of the beautiful scenery Lucas beheld yesterday, which saddened him. He quickly made his way over the stone bridge connecting the land to Windhelm's gates. He wasn't being as careful as before, and no longer cared that the ground was perpetually icy. 

 

His only priority was survival. 

 

Once his feet met snow, he broke into a sprint, fast approaching the stables, near which Windhelm's carriage driver was waiting and eyeing him curiously. 

 

"Where do you need to go, friend?" the driver asked.

 

Solitude," Lucas answered instantly.

 

He would have chosen Markarth, by virtue of it being farther away, but he settled for Solitude because it was Skyrim's capital, and he thought it might be more difficult for an assassin to track him down there. With Castle Dour and the Blue Palace within its walls as well, there was bound to be a more substantial guard presence as well.

 

A horse made a low noise, as if in protest of having to travel that far. The diver looked amused at this. "Very well. Hop in the back and we'll head for Solitude."

 

And so Lucas did.

 

When the lot of them arrived at the stables of Solitude, Lucas stood stiffly and stepped off the carriage, walking to the front to pay the driver, who wished him to stay safe. 

 

_Easier said than done..._

 

As he started up the hilled path to the gates of Solitude, Lucas again looked at his surroundings. This region of Skyrim was warmer, often sunny and didn't snow as often, and the ground was never very icy. The local flora and fauna were more lively and colorful, and there was a more broad diversity in both plant and animal life.

 

It was even more wondrous than the sunny day in Windhelm had been. 

 

Finally he reached the gates, and raised an eyebrow as he opened them. A guard nearby had cautioned him to behave himself while he was in Solitude, or else he would "end up like Roggvir". 

 

 _Who the hell is Roggvir?_ he wondered. 

 

As soon as Lucas entered Solitude, he noticed a crowd gathered nearby. Curiosity got the better of him and he stepped nearer, becoming aware of the angry comments being made by the people. When he directed his gaze in the same direction as they, it became immediately obvious that he was seeing a public execution. 

 

A guard began to speak, saying that the doomed man had betrayed Solutide and its citizens by opening the gate for Ulfric Stormcloak. 

 

_I guess this poor bastard is Roggvir, then._

 

Roggvir said a few words in his defense, and in defense of Ulfric Stormcloak, then was executed.

 

Lucas supposed he should have felt some degree of disgust or dismay, but instead, he felt remarkably calm (considering his current circumstances), as though he hadn't just witnessed a man's death. 

 

_Divines have mercy on my soul..._

 

He gave a small shudder and walked away in a vain attempt to direct his thoughts elsewhere. The sun would set soon, so he decided to find a place to stay before he did anything else. He didn't have to walk for very long before laying eyes on a sign that read "The Winking Skeever". 

 

When Lucas entered the Winking Skeever, he was greeted by similar circumstances as had existed in Candlehearth Hall, save for the larger space and difference in decor. What surprised him was that there were relatively few patrons for this time of day. However, fewer patrons meant there would be fewer people to keep an eye on, so he wasn't about to complain. Instead, he approached the counter and spoke with the innkeeper, Corpulus Vinius.

 

"Welcome to the Winking Skeever, friend. What can I do for you?" Corpulus said.

 

Lucas again attempted to sound as casual as he could. "I could use a drink... And a room, if you've got one."

 

It was an easier task to sound calm this time than it had been with Elda. 

 

He didn't know if it was good or bad.

 

Corpulus nodded. "Got both, if you've got the coin."

 

Lucas withdrew the pouch of coins and removed the appropriate amount of septims,  then slid them coolly across the countertop. Corpulus counted them quickly, then took them and began preparing a drink for him.  

 

"Let me know when you're ready, and I'll show you to your room," Corpulus said as he set a tankard of mead down in front of Lucas. 

 

Lucas took a sizable gulp and wiped his mouth. As much as he would've loved to simply drink until he fell into a stupor to calm his racing mind, he knew that it would be taking much too big of a risk. A single tankard would simply have to do for now, as he needed to remain alert. 

 

He quickly finished his drink, then signaled to Corpulus that he was ready to go to his room. Corpulus nodded, then led him there. 

 

The room was a bit bigger than the one he'd stayed in at Candlehearth hall, and was a bit more lavishly decorated too, which he supposed was to be expected from the capital city. There was an ornate bookshelf, a few places to sit and relax, and a comfortable bed, among a few other things. 

 

"Let me know if you need anything else," Corpulus said as he turned to leave.

 

Lucas closed the door behind him and looked around the room carefully. In particular he paid attention to corners and shadows and any place an assassin might hide.

 

Not that he expected to simply trip over a trained killer, but it never hurt to try. 

 

Once he was satisfied that his room was free of vengeful assassins, he sat in a chair as close to the corner as he could manage, the selected a book from the shelf and decided to read for a bit. 

 

It wasn't long after he began reading that a blonde woman entered the establishment. She scanned the immediate area for only a moment, but a moment was all she needed. She didn't see the one she was looking for, not in _there_ , at least.

 

 _He's not in here..._ she thought to herself as a smirk played across her lips.  _So he's in his room already, then._

 

_He's making this **too** easy..._

 

In order to make herself seem as unremarkable as possible, she too got herself a drink, which she sipped leisurely while keeping an eye on everyone else in the room. 

 

Eventually, she saw an opening.

 

Not one to pass up opportunities such as this, she got up and stepped into the shadows, silently and softly. She made her way to the rooms, still in a low crouch, and crept to the only room that was obviously occupied. She remained nearby, waiting for the sound of page-turning she picked up to stop, and for some indication that her mark had gone to sleep. 

 

She didn't have to wait long.

 

Lucas closed the book he was reading, having finished it. He stood and stretched, then walk over to the bed and sat on the edge for a moment, lost in thought. He decided soon after to forsake his sitting position to lie down. He wasn't going to sleep though, not yet. His mind was set on his next move. Where did he go from here? He considered going to a guard for help, but what would he say? "Help, I took on a little boy's Dark Brotherhood contract and now I think they're coming after me" ? No, that would cause more problems than it would ever solve. 

 

For now, he decided, staying in Solitude would be his best course of action. 

 

Shortly after arriving at that genius conclusion, Lucas fell asleep.

 

Outside his room, the blonde woman felt a rush of excitement wash over her. It was time. Once she was certain he was asleep (which she was extremely skilled at determining), she opened his door, slipping in and closing the door behind her as quietly and softly as the air flowed through the building. She crept over to a sleeping Lucas cautiously, then drew a dagger.

 

Her intent, however, was not to kill, no, she had to intention beyond making a small cut. The dagger which she brandished had been coated in a special substance called "Languorwine", which, with only a small amount in the bloodstream, would make its victims appear to be dead. It was exceptionally handy, as she had learned from studying her predecessors. 

 

She eyes Lucas' sleeping form for just a moment, determining where to strike. She finally settled for the top of his hand, which was conveniently lying flat. 

 

With one quick slash, she made a small cut.

 

Lucas awoke with a start, but just as quickly, his mind slipped into nothingness. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. of Things to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fateful encounter and another stop on Lucas' journey give him a glimpse into the past... or perhaps the future?

Lucas awoke some time later in a place he did not recognize. 

 

When his eyes finally opened, his vision was a bit blurry. There was a ceiling over his head, he noticed, so that meant he was inside a building. When he managed to get to his feet, he realized he was no longer lying on a soft bed, but rather a hard, unforgiving floor.

 

He certainly wasn't in Solitude anymore.

 

Once Lucas was back on his feet, he couldn't help but wince in pain. His joints were still stiff from the Languorwine poison and his hand was still painful from being cut. He attempted to distract himself by getting a look at his surroundings. There was a door to his left, a nearby bookshelf, and in front of him, against a wall, there was a chest, covered in a substance that looked suspiciously like blood. 

 

He made a break for the door. 

 

To his horror, the door wouldn't budge, no matter how hard he tried. He looked around frantically, but he didn't see another exit anywhere. 

 

Then he spotted her.

 

A woman sat on top of the bookshelf, simply staring at him. She was clad in leather armor that was red and black, and unlike anything Lucas had ever seen. She also wore a hood with a mask, revealing only her calculating eyes.

 

Lucas' fear turned to anger and he drew his dagger, which at this point he half-expected to be missing. He glared aggressively, straight into her eyes, and assumed a battle stance. It was not a stance he was taught by his father; it was a stance his body took on naturally, as if it were the most natural stance in the world. 

 

"Who are you?!" he demanded. "Where am I?!"

 

She gave absolutely no reaction, as though his words were nothing more than a gentle breeze. 

 

He raised his voice. " _Answer me! Or I'll-_ "

 

The woman's eyes gleamed maliciously. "You'll do... What?"

 

Lucas was silent.

 

Her voice was low, as a warning."Take on a professional assassin? And inevitably die? No... You're not stupid. At least, I certainly hope not. I would advise you to listen...  _Lucas._ " 

 

Lucas raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. Just how did she know his name?

 

"You see," she began, "You owe a debt to us. Generally speaking, debts must be repaid."

 

He didn't bother hiding his confusion. "Debt? What debt? Who is 'us'? Why am I here?"

 

"Grelod the Kind," she stated simply, as if it were the answer to all of his questions. 

 

Lucas felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. Whoever this woman was, she somehow knew he was the killer. 

 

Still, he feigned innocence. "Who's Grelod the Kind? What's going on?"

 

The woman feigned surprise far better than he had feigned innocence. "Oh? Are you such a callous killer that you don't even remember the name of the  _old woman_ you  _slaughtered?_ "

 

Lucas recoiled. 

 

"That's right, dear Lucas.  _I_ know. _We_ know."

 

He tried to maintain some semblance of confidence in his voice, even if they both knew it was mere bravado. "Who is 'we'?"

 

"My family. The Dark Brotherhood."

 

His suspicions were confirmed, just like that. He was alone in some locked Divines-know-where location with the Dark Brotherhood assassin who had kidnapped him. 

 

He began to echo her words. "The Dar-"

 

She cut him off. "Yes. And as I said, you have a debt to repay us."

 

Lucas gave a sigh. "And what do I owe you, exactly?"

 

"You see, Grelod the Kind was supposed to be  _our_ target. Our contract. I do believe you're familiar with the concept? Your work in sending her to the Void was admirable, but the fact remains that you stole our kill, so to speak."

 

Lucas didn't want to cross blades with this woman, he decided, and so he sheathed his dagger. "...And how am I to repay a kill?"

 

She raised her gaze slightly, looking to the opposite end of the building. "If you would be so... obedient... as to look behind you..."

 

Lucas turned around as instructed. In front of him, a few paces away, were three people. They were bound, helpless, and wore masks over their heads so they couldn't see what was going on. There was a Nord man, a Khajiit man, and a Nord woman. 

 

She continued. "I've gathered these poor fools from various places, shall we say. One of them had a contract on their head. It's up to you to figure out who it is. Once you figure it out, I want you to kill them."

 

Lucas wasn't sure how he felt about this. "You want me to kill one of them? But how will I know who has the contract? They could all be innocent for all I know!"

 

She laughed again, this time with a crueler edge. "'Innocence', is it? There's nothing illegal about being a mean old hag, but you still stabbed old Grelod to death. Don't try to act as though you have moral authority here."

 

He didn't have a choice.

 

Lucas held three awkward conversations with the three captives, whose names, he learned, were Fultheim the Fearless, Alea Quintus, and Vasha. Fultheim was a mercenary, Alea was a mother with several children, and Vasha was an, in his own words, "obtainer of goods, taker of lives, and defiler of daughters".

 

Quite the motley crew. 

 

Feeling his captor's eyes upon him, Lucas again drew his dagger and stepped closer to the bound captives. There was only one way to be certain that he eliminated whoever had a contract out for them.

 

He crouched low and silently crept behind Vasha first. 

 

He didn't hesitate. 

 

Lucas held one hand tightly over Vasha's mouth and slashed the Khajiit's throat with the dagger in his other hand. Vashe fell over limply. 

 

He did the same to Alea and Fultheim. When he finished, three bodies lay in their own blood. The woman who captured Lucas felt her eyes grow wide; this was beyond what she had predicted. He was faster than she had anticipated, but also efficient and silent as a mouse. More than that, she certainly didn't think he would kill all three captives. 

 

 _By Sithis..._ she thought. 

 

Lucas turned around and walked back over to the bookshelf, dagger still drawn. 

 

_How strange... all that blood and he doesn't even seem fazed._

 

"There! I killed them. Now you have to let me go!" he said. 

 

_Not even curious as to who had the contract..._

 

She seamlessly regained her composure. "I intend to honor our agreement. I will give you the key. Your debt is repaid. However..."

 

Lucas narrowed his eyes. "I'm listening..."

 

She continued. "Why stop here?"

 

Lucas blinked. "What do you m-"

 

"I would offer you an opportunity. A chance to join me-to join  _us_. The Dark Brotherhood."

 

Lucas was surprised by her offer, to say the very least. Him? Join a cult of assassins? 

 

It intrigued him. 

 

_How the mighty have fallen. Something must be wrong with me for even considering it, but... Perhaps it might be where I belong now. I've killed innocent people. I'm damned one way or another. If I'm damned anyway... I might as well go all out._

 

Lucas looked up into his captor's eyes after a long pause. "Alright," he said, "I'll join you."

 

Despite the hood she wore, Lucas could tell she smiled. 

 

"I knew you would make the right choice. The sanctuary is located in the Pine Forest, near Falkreath. You'll find it hidden off the road. The Black Door, when you attempt to open it, will question you. Answer exactly: 'Silence, my brother'."

 

She turned her body and pushed herself off the bookshelf, landing softly. She handed Lucas a key, which he took.

 

"The key to the shack, as I promised. I'll see you at the sanctuary. Oh, and my name is Astrid."

 

And she vanished, or seemed to vanish, when Lucas exited the shack.

 

It was night time. Lucas' first reaction was to look up at the sky, hoping to use the locations of Masser and Secunda to determine how much time had passed since he was kidnapped. The endeavor, however, proved useless; he hadn't checked the positions of the moons when he was in Windhelm, Riften, or Solitude, leaving him with no frame of reference. 

 

Looking around, he tried to get a bearing on his location. There was a depressing combination of swamp and ice in the landscape, stretching as far as he could see. The most he could say was that he didn't seem to be close to Solitude, Winterhold, or Dawnstar.  After giving a few more glances around, he picked a direction that  _felt_ likely and set off. 

 

Five frostbite spiders, three saber cats, two bears and one day later, Lucas found himself in the town of Morthal. It was perfect; small, quiet, and best of all, he could get a bearing on where he was and where he needed to go. Aside from the whispers he heard about some mage in town and the burned-down house, it seemed at first glance to be a pretty normal town. He was exhausted after fighting with the wildlife, and so he made his way to the Moorside Inn. 

 

The instant he entered the Moorside Inn, Lucas felt much better. It was a modest inn with a hearth, a counter with stools, a few benches, and some rooms that weren't fancy but would get the job done. Lucas shuffled to the counter and sat down on a stool, grateful to get off his feet for a while. 

 

The innkeeper, Jonna, looked at him with a bewildered expression. 

 

"What happened to you?" she asked. 

 

Lucas took a half-hearted glance at his arms, at least what of them he could see. He hadn't paid attention during his trek to Morthal, but he now saw several lacerations and bruises from his skirmishes with the various creatures he had fought. At the time, he wasn't able to see much more of his skin, but as he shifted on the stool he could feel several more scratches and he wouldn't be surprised to discover more bruises. 

 

He simply shrugged.

 

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he mused. 

 

Jonna nodded slowly. "Right... Anyway, if you need anything, I'll be around."

 

Lucas gave a sigh and he shook his head. "Before anything else, I need a drink."

 

Jonna glanced at his cuts and scrapes. "I don't know what happened," she began,"but I believe it."

 

She turned around and prepared a drink for Lucas while he put some coins on the counter. 

 

She set the drink down in front of him a moment later. "Between you and me, I made this one a bit more potently than normal, You look like you could use it."

 

He tossed back a swig, wiped his mouth, and smiled at her. "Much appreciated."

 

Jonna nodded as she wiped down the counter. "Let me know if there's anything else."

 

Lucas held up an index finger as he swallowed more mead and wiped his mouth. "I could use a room for tonight. And it's been a few days at least since I've had anything to eat. I could also use some food."

 

"Not a problem. What can I interest you i-"

 

Lucas shrugged and cut her off. "I'm too hungry to be picky. Whatever you recommend."

 

Jonna raised an eyebrow, but nodded and put some ingredients into a cooking pot. 

 

A few minutes later, Jonna set down a spoon and a hot bowl of soup. It looked and smelled delicious. He began to eat it immediately, and thought it was a great way to end the however-many-days-it-had-been since he'd last eaten. His appetite had been nearly non-existent after killing Grelod, but it had suddenly come roaring back with a vengeance. 

 

After he finished his soup, Jonna took him to his room, where he fell asleep quickly. His sleep was surprisingly restful, though one dream stood out in his mind. 

 

He didn't know where he was. The ground was pitch-black, as though any step he took could potentially mean stepping into a bottomless void and he wouldn't know until he'd done it. Off in the distance he saw some structures-or what appeared to be structures-in the same impenetrably dark hue. Gazing at the horizon and directly up revealed a dark crimson sky. 

 

He certainly wasn't in Tamriel anymore.

 

What commanded his attention the most, however, was a single hooded figure, which turned and approached him. He couldn't make out the figure's face, and he was frankly too startled to care. 

 

"We are bonded, you and I..." the hooded man began,"Joined, through the powers of the Void."

 

Lucas opened his mouth to say something, but the figure held out a finger as a cue for silence. 

 

"I  _do_ hope we'll meet again soon."

 

With that, Lucas awoke abruptly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
